One Night Stan?
by MonsterHumper
Summary: When Stan gets into another fight with Kyle, he ends up meeting an old friend from school - the tall, curly-haired goth kid, Michael. They catch up, blow off some steam, and end up experiencing some 'firsts' together. Stan x Michael (Stanael)


"Dude! You're supposed to vote for giant douche!"

"You know what, if you're going to be like this, I won't vote at all!"

Stan stormed out of the building, being met with the cool evening air. Once again it was another thrilling vote between a giant douche and turd sandwich. He ignored Kyle's lecture and headed back to the dorms. He was glad the two had gone to the same university, but sometimes the guy really got on his last nerve.

"Always going on about giant douche, friggin pisses me off." Stan turned around a corner, bumping into someone.

"Hey, watch it."

Stan squinted in the darkness, the voice seeming familiar.

"Michael?"

The tall goth kid narrowed his black-rimmed eyes, "I didn't know you came here."

"That's my line. What're you up to right now?" Stan asked, genuinely surprised.

"Grabbing some shitty beer down at The Black Crow."

"Do you care if I come too?" He felt like he needed to blow off some steam tonight. What better way than with beer and cynics?

"If you're gonna look like a goddamn conformist I mind. You gotta dress like us, or did you forget?"

Stan simultaneously wanted to sigh and laugh. "Of course I didn't forget."

"See you there then, Stan."

Michael turned, walking away with his black-clad friends. His skinny hands waved through the air, his fingers clasping a cigarette as he did so.

It had been awhile since he'd dressed like this. It felt a little silly, truth be told, but it definitely suited his mood. He'd even still had that goddamn black eyeliner he'd bought from back in fourth grade.

Walking into the Black Crow, his ears were met with the bleak, life-hating lyrics omnipresent in this sort of bar. Walking past the droves of other kids in black, his eyes eventually found Michael. He waved him over.

"Good, you don't look like a fucking conformist anymore."

"What's the shittiest beer here?" Stan asked, crouching into the dull gold-studded, red-cushioned seating.

"Who the hell's this guy?" One of the other goth kids present turned his scrutinizing gaze at him.

"Relax John, he's an acquaintance from elementary school. He's slummed with us before."

"Is he goth?"

Michael rolled his eyes. "I don't know John, maybe he's a vamp kid and I just haven't noticed yet." Michael's eyes narrowed.

"Besides, since he's not technically a part of the goth group, it makes me the most non-conformist of the bunch of you. Check out the hipster I brought."

"I'm not a goddamn hipster." Stan griped, finally getting a cold beer - the one everyone else was drinking of course.

"Sounds like he's trying to hard if you ask me." John complained with a sigh, flicking his hair.

"You can shut the fuck up John. Look. Stan, what's the point of life?" Michael turned to him, his eyes dull but expecting.

For a moment, he debated playing with him, but in the end he said, "There is no point to life. It sucks then you die."

"Whoa." John murmured among the others.

"I told you dweeb. He can slum with us." Michael settled back into his seat, obviously satisfied.

"Thanks for hanging man, I really needed a night out." Stan leaned over to Michael and shouted over the loud music.

"Dude, no problem, so long as you're not gonna be a conformist. Doesn't seem like you anyways, hanging out with those dweebs."

"Yeah." Stan's bitterness came out even when he tried to hide it. Kyle was always the goddamn same. Every time it came down to this, they always got into a fight.

The rest of the evening passed without incident, Stan getting to know a few of the goth kids around the table, and learning a smidgen more about Michael in general.

"Whatever happened to you, Pete, Henrietta and Firkle?" Stan asked. He knew where all his elementary school friends were but knew nothing about the goth kids and where they'd gone.

"Firkle went to another university. Henrietta's mom shipped her off to some all-girls school in England - she was really the bitch Henrietta said she was. Pete... well he started working at a local convenience store and started smoking a whole lot more. Blew most of his income on smokes, coffee an' CDs." He took a melancholy pose before turning to Stan.

"Speaking of smokes, want to come outside?"

Stan shrugged. He was getting hot anyways.

Stepping out into the cool fall-air, Michael lit up his cigarette and took a deep drag.

"S'been awhile eh? Last time it was with that stupid brainwashing camp."

"Yeah." Stan leaned against the metal railing, the surface cold on his skin, reminiscing.

"Want one?"

Michael offered a cigarette, held lightly between practiced fingers.

Stan hesitated, but ended up taking it anyways. It'd been awhile since he'd smoked. He wondered what Kyle would say.

"Do you have a light?"

Michael looked to the unlit cig in Stan's mouth before leaning in.

"Suck." He commanded, touching the tip of his dart to Stan's.

Being this close Stan noticed how he'd surpassed his school-mate. Michael had always seemed so tall in elementary school, but now Stan was above his eye level. His curls had loosened considerably as well.

For a few moments they were close, but as the tip became ember red, Michael returned to his lean against the dividers. Stan thought he stayed just a little closer though.

"Where's your buddy, the one with the hat." He flapped his hand listlessly at the side of his head, referring to Kyle's standard green cap.

"Kyle? He's... getting political again." Stan sighed, annoyed to be reminded of him so soon.

"You had a fight?"

Stan looked over to Michael who started right back at him, his gaze blandly accusing.

"Don't give me that look. And don't think I haven't noticed you only come around when you get into some kind of emotional trouble. As far as I know things with you and Wendy have been over for awhile now too."

Stan snorted. "A helluva long time ago." He coughed, the smoke ticking his lungs.

"Shit dude!" Stan begun to hack. "How do you even smoke these?!"

He shrugged, "Practice." and dropped his cigarette butt to the ground, grinding it out with his foot.

"What do you say we get going. It's getting stale here."

"What're you thinking?" Stan questioned.

"Follow me."

—-

It was beautiful. It was giant, black and veined. It was also right on the first years' residence.

Michael was chuckling to himself as he added the pubes, polishing off the beer he'd brought from his dorm. It felt good to cause a little mischief.

"Okay, let's ditch the evidence and get out of here before someone sees us."

Michael brought him back to his dorm room.

"Dude, you have a single room? That's wicked!"

"I was put with a few other people, but they just didn't feel my vibe."

It was easy to think of people getting a little weirded out by his normal behaviours. Even around the apartment now there were dark posters and black canvases handing from the walls. It was completely lit with lamps and Christmas lights and had various occult decor scattered throughout.

Locking the door he threw a bag of chips at Stan.

"You want coffee?"

"Uh, no, I'm good. Thanks for the chips though."

"Do me a favour and turn on the tv."

Stan clicked it in, an dark spirits of the underworld show popping to the screen. He sat down on the bed across the tv, lounging on the black pillows.

Stan was joined a few minutes later, the smell of freshly made coffee drifting through the air.

"So when do you think you'll make up?" He asked all of a sudden.

"Huh?" Stan asked, trying to avoid answering.

"With Kyle. You always end up making up, so I want to know how long I'm going to be baby-sitting you for." The look in his eyes was a bit too smug for his tastes.

"Dude, I don't know. Do you really need to keep asking about it?" His tone was more snappy than he'd wanted it to be.

"Whoa, relax. You need to blow some steam off."

"Ugh...sorry, it's just always the same old stuff. Blowing some steam off would be nice..." The gym was closed though, and he was a little buzzed.

"Go make a booty call then. That's what guys like you normally do right?"

"Whoa, what?"

"You know, a chick who comes over la-"

"I know what a booty call is, but I've never gotten into that sort of thing."

For a moment it seemed like Michael's eyes opened just the tiniest bit wider.

"Hm, shit out of luck then."

"Yeah." The silence that fell was oddly charged, and for some reason Stan begun to feel a little awkward. He was debating leaving when Michael's words stopped hm.

"I could help you out this one time." He didn't look over at Stan, but stared ahead, his shoulders still slumped.

"Help me..?"

Michael looked at him, exasperation showing plainly on his face.

"Did you want me to say it outright?" As if to prove a point his pale hand grabbed between Stan's legs, squeezing and pulling away as quickly as he'd grabbed.

Stan jumped, surprised and confused by the sudden contact.

"Dude! We're both... dudes! I'm not gay!"

"Neither am I. It's just satisfying urges Stan, nothing serious." He didn't know how Michael had managed to sound so blasé with his word choice, but he did.

"But if the two of us do... anything, we'd be gay with each other." Stan reasoned.

Michael shrugged, standing and putting his coffee on the table.

"There's all types of names for people now. Gay, bi-curious, pansexual, demisexual, dolphinsexual probably."

He reached out, his face as expressionless as always as he undid Stan's button and zipper.

"But that still doesn't mean I'm gay!" Stan put a hand on his shoulder to stop him, flinching as he felt his thin fingers stroking him.

"Call it what you want." He shrugged.

"No way." Stan swatted away Michael's hand, "If this got out, I'd never hear the end of it."

"I'm not planning on fucking telling people, Stan. Are you an idiot?" Michael's face turned sour at his reluctance.

Stan hesitated, feeling a stirring as Michael's hand returned.

"The walls are probably thin."

"At least they're not as thin as your excuses." He retorted.

"I don't know..."

"Stop being a fucking conformist."

Stan shivered, looking up as Michael uncovered his manhood. Uncomfortable, but oddly in the mood, he blamed the dim lighting.

He was even more surprised when he felt Michael's lips press against him.

"Hey, you don't have to do th-" looking down Stan was met with Michael's typical stare - his eyes accusing him of being a conformist. The odd intimacy of seeing the other man with his cock in his mouth made Stan grow harder against his wishes. By the mischievous shine in his eyes, he knew Michael had noticed.

He looked away, his cheeks reddening. He closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling instead of the situation. Past the awkward situation he found he was starting to feel good. Really good.

"Michael... hold on... wait..!"

"Hm?" Stan pushed him away, feeling too close to cumming. He breathed hard, trying to calm his mind as his thoughts, all the while Michael kept his black-rimmed trained on him.

"Wanna do it?" The deadpan suggestion was almost comedic in it's lack of expression.

Stan froze, his mind unable to accept, but his body lusting for more. He wondered what it'd feel like. He wouldn't even have to see him afterwards if he didn't want to.

"Ugh, just close your eyes." Michael took off his shirt before throwing a pillow on top of Stan's face. "I'd recommend you don't look." He said dryly, his voice sounding closer. He felt Michael's body heat overtop of his chest as he leaned overtop of him.

The drawer beside the bed opened and Michael rifled around for a moment before shutting it, obviously finding what he was looking for.

Stan waited nervously, glad for the pillow. He had no idea what expression he was making. Hell! He had no idea what he was even _doing_! No doubt, if he wasn't buzzed he'd have been out of here a long time ago.

He lifted his hips as he felt a tug on his pants, and Michael grabbed both his pants and boxers and pulled them down to his knees.

He heard a cap open, and clothing slide to the floor. He heard a wet noise, and heard a wrapper opening. Next he felt a cool hand on his shaft, recognizing the slippery, latex feel against his skin.

He felt the heat of Michael's thighs as he straddled him, each brush of flesh heightening his awareness with no vision. His erection throbbed, the irrational part of his mind wanting to be inside already.

And finally he felt himself sliding in. Stan's breath released, a small moan of his own slipping through his lips as the tightness and warmth squeezed him. He was glad the pillow muffled his sounds. He held it over his face, knowing it wasn't the coolest thing to do, but also afraid of what he might see, and what he might let Michael hear.

He felt the man's weight settle on his body as he begun to slowly move up and down. The repeated motion made Stan groan, feeling himself become swallowed. Unable to stop himself, Stan became curious. He peeked beneath the pillow. It was enough to see himself sliding in and out, just visible in the dim lighting. His heartbeat quickened and his arousal grew. He could hear the wet sounds coming form where they met each other, Michael's bottom hot on his stomach. He wanted to see more. It suddenly felt stuffy behind the pillow as his arousal deepened his breath. He wanted to see himself sliding in and out, watching himself disappear into his ready behind.

"Ngh." He heard the faintest of noises escape from Michael as he begun to move quicker.

Moving the pillow aside, Stan sat up suddenly, coming close to the Michael's face.

"I told you not to look." He snipped instantly, his usually pale cheeks flushed with movement and pleasure.

"Does it feel good?" Stan asked earnestly.

Michael shrugged, "Does it matter?" His dark eyes trailed off, for the first time that night he hadn't looked accusatory. More... vulnerable almost. Odd.

Stan felt himself stiffen even more, drawing a questioning look from the man he was currently in. His large hands closed around Michael's thin waist. He picked him up and tossed him chest-up onto the bed.

Michael's thin limbs clambered to keep his balance, and before he'd had a chance to object Stan was overtop of him. He opened Michael's legs, placing his cock at his entrance.

"Hey, hold on a- haaah!" Michael objected, his words dying in his throat as Stan pushed himself inside. He paused for only the amount of time it took to take off his own shirt before he begun to thrust into Michael, slowly at first, then harder. And faster.

His hands easily held Michael's waist in place. He didn't know why but seeing his normally impassive face crack was turning him on immensely. He wanted to see more of his expressions splayed unguarded in front of him. He wanted to tease out faces only he'd get to see.

He thrust in deep this time, watching as Michael's body arched and shivered.

"Hnnn! T-there, f-feels weird. Don't... keep, ah! Stan..!" His voice became warning, however his thighs tightened around him, squeezing tight. His bony knees dug in painfully, but the flushed, ecstasy-filled expression on his face made Stan not even notice the pain.

He continued to thrust in, mercilessly attacking Michael's sensitive spot. He could feel his muscles contracting around his shaft as the other's chest rose and fell heavily, his skin shiny with perspiration. Michael had squeezed his eyes shut, his mouth open the slightest amount as he gasped at the air.

'Dammit, what the hell am I thinking about?' Stan mentally questioned himself. He was feeling so good, and the only thing he wanted now was a taste of the goth's lips. They looked soft and full. Cursing himself he leaned forward, placing his elbows on either side of his face.

Michael opened his eyes to look at him suspiciously. Stan ignored him, pulling the goth's lips towards him with a hand on his chin.

He crushed his own against Michael's, relishing how they felt, and the surprise present by his reaction. He panted, his mouth returning for more. Though he tasted like coffee with a faint hint of cigarettes, Stan couldn't stop now if he'd wanted to. It was a delicious meal he had never eaten before, and he found he now had the taste for.

He felt Michael's hands circle around him, gripping his shoulders roughly. His fingers dug into his skin until Stan released the man's lips. He gasped for air, his body bending like a bow in his arms. God, it felt so good inside of him. How the hell did this cynical goth kid look so erotic?

"Stan, slow down or I'll cum." He warned between breaths, his curls dishevelled and his body accommodating Stan. Michael's hands pushed at his chest, trying to get him to stop or slow.

Paying no heed, Stan thrust in even harder and faster. By now Michael was loose enough that it was sliding in and out easily. With every movement brought a new wave of pleasure that built up inside of him. He'd finish soon as well.

"Ngh!" Stan grit his teeth as he felt a sharp pain on his shoulder. Michael had dug his teeth in, obviously displeased with Stan making his own decisions. He pulled his shoulder away from Michael's range, still not slowing down.

"Stan, s-seriously..!" Michael's hands went up to cover his face.

"Go ahead and cum." He grabbed each of Michael's hands with his own, easily able to hold adjacent to his head. He pushed against Stan's arms, but his physical condition was nothing compared to a man who actually played sports, went outside and consumed more than cigarettes and coffee.

"Stan!" He growled, his face one of anger and a touch of fear before inevitable bliss. "Stan..!" He grit his teeth, but was unable to hold it. His body rocked with the force of his orgasm, his hips bucking against Stan's manhood. His ejaculate squirted onto his chest, contrasting his already pale skin with the stark white of his cum. His head leaned back, a single high sound escaping him. As he came his backside clenched around Stan, bringing him even closer to his own orgasm.

Stan thrust a few more times, his own pleasure taking his body through euphoria. He arched around Michael's body, shuddering with the passing feeling.

"Did.. you just... cum in me?" Michael asked, his tone flat.

"What? Was I not supposed to?" Stan asked, his own shoulders heaving with his heavy breath.

"Dude."

Sitting upright Stan removed himself from Michael, tying up the condom and throwing it into the trash bin.

Michael sat up, staring a little apprehensively. He opened the window before anything else, reaching for his smokes and lighting up.

"That was... interesting." He remarked, his words heavy with implicated questions and observations.

"I thought you were.. into that sort of thing? Haven't you done this before?" Stan asked, leaning back against the pillows, exhausted.

Michael took a drag of his cigarette. "Kind of? Not really? Not... to that... extent." He blew his smoke out the window. "I wasn't expecting you to get on top... or..." he trailed off.

"Or kiss you?" Stan sighed, not knowing himself why he did it. He had never seen Michael before in that way, but even now as the goth sat, his shoulders slumped forwards, there was just something... sexy about him.

"Yeah."

"I uh... sorry. I don't usually do that... I don't normally do... this." Standing from the bed Stan thought he should at least have the decency to throw on his boxers.

"I'll act like nothing happened." Michael said after a silence, staring out the window with a hardened expression.

"I wasn't going to tell anyone if that's what you're worried about." Stan frowned as he said it, it almost seemed like it should have been Michael saying that. Hadn't he said that earlier?

There was a heavy silence. For some reason Stan felt... bothered that Michael was brushing him off so easily.

"Michael, what's up with you?" Stan closed the space between them, pulling him to face him with a hand on his shoulder.

Michael turned to look at him, the cigarette in his hand shaking, almost unnoticeable.

"I'm just..." his words trailed off and Stan could see he was getting caught up in his thoughts.

He swatted Stan's hand away, looking down, "It's nothing."

"Don't pull that shit on me, what were you going to say?" Now it was Stan's turn to frown.

"Nothing!"

"Michael I swear to God..!"

"Hey, keep it down!" He hissed.

"I don't want to tell you, because you're going to think I'm fucking weird!" Michael spat out.

"Weirder than what we just did?" Stan asked.

Michael looked away, his shoulder slumping forwards again. Stan could see the individual vertebra on his back.

"I'm fucking confused, alright? I didn't expect sex to feel like... to be so..." He looked for some kind of different or more eloquent word, but found naught. "Good." He finished, his form shrinking down even more.

'Goddamit, why's he acting so cute?' Stan accused mentally. His fingers reached out, tracing up his spine. He could see goosebumps forming on his skin from his own soft touches. He liked how Michael's body reacted to him. He liked all his expressions too.

"Don't jerk me around." He warned, leaving his back exposed for Stan to continue to touch. "If you're sticking around because you feel you have to, don't. I'm not like that."

But Stan could hear it in his voice. His loneliness reaching out to him.

"I..." Stan searched for the right words. Nothing sounded eloquent, so he spoke instinctually.

"It felt good. For me too. I... you... you turn me on. Even if you're a guy." Stan swallowed the hard lump in his throat. He wasn't gay, but Michael seemed to be an exception.

"If..." Stan scratched the back of his head. "If you wanted to... we could... do it again some time?"

Michael stubbed out his cigarette, turning his body and wincing slightly.

"... are you asking that seriously?" He asked, his voice low and quiet.

"Dammit Michael, yeah I am. It's not easy for me to ask it, so try not to think I'm pulling one over you this time." Stan blurted, his nervous energy coming out with harsh words and pink cheeks.

Though his eyes still looked wary, Stan could see the small quirk at the side of his mouth. Probably the closest thing he'd get to a smile. Maybe this goth was having a good time watching one of the conformists struggle with feeling uncomfortable. Maybe it had just been a twitch. Stan couldn't possibly know with him and his poker face.

"... sure. That works well for me." Michael cleared his throat, the awkward air replaced with giddiness.

"Cool."

They stared at each other, until finally Michael broke the ice.

"Fuck, want to watch Netflix?"

Stan couldn't help but chuckle as they ended up doing something so mundane. "Yeah, sure."

The two of them would have scoffed to see that they fell asleep together, sleeping in each other's arms all night before Stan woke up early the next day.

He dressed quietly, but still ended up rousing the curly-haired man.

"Sneaking out are you?" Michael teased with his typical deadpan expression.

"Avoiding my walk of shame actually." Stan corrected, donning his clothes from last night. He shuffled around, Michael walking him to the door.

Stan looked down at him, huddled in his black blankets, with large rings under his eyes. He could tell the man wasn't used to waking up this early.

"I'll see you around some time... maybe we can go for coffee... or something."

Michael nodded, the corner of his lips curling up for a moment.

"That sounds... not terrible."

Stan shook his head. Once a cynic, always a cynic.

He stepped out of Michael's room, turning around, looking slyly, then bending forwards.

He touched his lips lightly to Michael's, much to test it for himself as to thank the goth for being there for him last night. When he pulled back, the wide eyes on his spoke of his surprise.

Stan laughed through his nose before turning and walking down the hall.

"Later." He said.

As he was about to round the corner, he decided to cast a glance back and saw that those black-rimmed eyes still staring at him.

He waved, and from the huddle of black blankets, he thought he saw Michael return it.


End file.
